


The Chains of Command

by notmoreflippingelves



Category: Lewis (TV), The Wrong Mans, The Wrong Mans (TV)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Gen, Well mostly anyway, Women of the Morse Universe Fanwork Challenge, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmoreflippingelves/pseuds/notmoreflippingelves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former MI5 Director  Dame Grace Orde ("The Gift of Promise") hands over the reins to her successor Helen Cox. Crossover with BBC/Hulu's The Wrong Mans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chains of Command

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Women of the Morse Universe Fanwork Challenge for the prompt "Dame Grace Orde (from Lewis "The Gift of Promise"), former head of MI5 was succeeded by the only woman cleverer and more ruthless than she, Director Cox (Rebecca Front's character from BBC/Hulu's The Wrong Mans)." Thank you to sententiousandbellicose for the excellent prompt. 
> 
> Funnily enough, the season of Strictly Come Dancing that I picked totally at random to reference was the same season in which Cherie Lunghi (who played Grace Orde) competed. So nice little accidental in-joke there.

 As Helen Cox walked into the office that would soon be her own, her heel caught on the corner of the ornate Oriental rug, and she caught herself before she tripped. “You know I’ve always hated that carpet,” she snapped to the woman sitting at the desk.

Dame Grace Orde, former Head of British Intelligence smiled at her former protégé—now her successor as head of Head of MI5. “It’s funny you should say that. I was considering giving it you as an office-warming gift. I suppose I’ll have to get the proverbial glass paperweight instead.”

“Please do,” Cox took the seat opposite Orde. “It’ll give me something to throw at Jenkins whenever he brings me news I don’t want to hear.”

Dame Grace raised a questioning eyebrow. “You might want to reconsider that. It takes so long to house-train a decent PA; you wouldn’t want to lose him—not mention it would be hell to clean up the mess.”

“I’m a compulsive cleaner,” Cox reminded her former superior, “—which may explain why I’m perpetually single.”

“Marriage is vastly overrated, in my experience.”

“Speaking of which, how is Mr. Grace Orde, OBE?”

“Which one?” Though meticulously shielded from the public’s prying eyes, it was an open secret at MI5 that Dame Orde was having an intense affair with her personal bodyguard—while the man whose ring she wore sowed his wild oats elsewhere.

“Either or both?”

“Fine—in both cases. I’ll tell them you said ‘hello.’”

“Good-o. And remind Ron that he never returned _Strictly Come Dancing_ , Series 6. Rufus and I are planning a re-watch, and Tom Chambers is his favorite.” Cox said. The aforementioned Rufus—an adorable Irish Setter-Pomeranian puppy—was apparently something of a dance enthusiast.

“I’ll try to remember. Also, you never RSVP’d to my leaving-do? Are you still coming?”

“I think Rufus might have eaten the invitation. But it’s the 14th right?” Cox asked and Dame Orde nodded. “Then, I can definitely make it, and I’m looking forward to it….the party that is—not your leaving.”

“I knew what you meant. I’m still not sure myself how I feel about it myself. There are times when I think I must have been mad to take this job and others where I think I must be mad to give it up. Still, I did the best I could for Queen and Country—and at least I got an OBE out of it.”

“Still first woman director of MI5—that has to count for something?”

Dame Grace shrugged. “Yes, I suppose it does—to all those little girls dreaming of becoming James Bond someday.”

“Forget, James Bond. Those little girls are dreaming of becoming Grace Orde someday— smarter, better dressed, and actually able to keep it in her trousers... well most of the time.”

“It gives a whole new meaning to lying on your back and thinking of England—doesn’t it?” said Orde, smiling wryly.

Cox laughed, a rare full-body guffaw that was a not-unwelcome contrast to the stern façade she usually presented. “

“ Still, it’s time to go,” Dame Grace continued. “I want to take my retirement while I’m still young enough to enjoy it.”

“Any plans?”

 “Travel mainly. Though I’m thinking of starting my memoirs.”

Cox bit her lip nervously. “Any chance I might feature in your scandalous tell-all?”

“ _Frequently_ —but in a strictly professional capacity,” Dame Grace replied in reference to their brief dalliance in the summer of ’86. “I’m not sure Great Britain is ready to know that their new MI5 director-general purrs like a kitten when you nibble on her neck.”

“ You never know; it might make me more approachable to the general public. The press already thinks a man-hating, social-climbing harpy.”

Orde smiled, remembering that certain journalists had said similar things about her all through her tenure—only to shower her with effusive praise when she announced her retirement. “Still, I’m glad it’ll be you manning the helm. This job needs…”

“A woman’s touch?” Cox finished.

“ I was going to say a cool head and a quick wit. But you know I’m always in favor of making cracks in the glass ceiling. Her Majesty and the PM were both pushing for Henry Innocent, but I recommended you.”

“I’m grateful, though Innocent would have been good too.”

“Yes,” the former MI5 director nodded, “but we both know you’re _better_. Besides which, his marriage on the rocks, so he wouldn’t be properly focused on the job anyway.”

This was news to Cox. “That’s a pity; I like Jean. She always was too good for Henry.”

“Naturally _you’d_ think that; apart from the glasses, you’re a dead ringer for her—which might explain how Henry acts around you when he’s had one too many.”

“And here, I was thinking I was his ‘one who got away,” Cox teased.

“ Are you changing your tune? I thought you weren’t interested in men?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m _disinterested_ in men,” the younger woman clarified. “ I find them interesting in the same way I find reality television interesting— inordinately self-absorbed, mildly idiotic, and yet oddly fascinating. I just don’t find them _arousing_ in any way.”

“I like Jean too—good head on her shoulders. I often wondered if I should have asked Henry to recruit her into our merry fold.”

“It’s probably for the best that you didn’t; if there were more civilian coppers like her, our job would be a lot easier.”

“Our job will _never_ be easy, Helen _,”_ Orde sighed.

“ Still, I’d welcome any advice you may have—from one “M” to another.”

Dame Grace smiled at the nickname. When Judi Dench had started playing “M”—James Bond’s fearless leader—during Orde’s tenure, a few film critics had speculated that Dench had modeled the character on the ruthless female head of MI5—a rumor that Dame Grace had done little to discourage.

She opened her mouth to answer and then paused. How could she possibly say all that she needed to say? That this job would test her mind and body—in ways that Helen—experienced spy though she may be—would not have thought possible? That Cox would discover the very best and the very worst of herself in the process?  

Finally, she just said, “Expect the unexpected” and left it at that.

 


End file.
